


Dissimulate

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Arguing, Gen, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dissimulation: the concealment of one's thoughts, feelings, or character.Fenris never gives to the poor. Anders takes offense to that. What comes next is exactly what you might imagine, except not.





	Dissimulate

**Author's Note:**

> Still another fifty minutes to midnight my time, so this is totally on time. Let's pretend I wasn't working on this all day. Whoops? 
> 
> I tried not to be too critical of Anders or Fenris here. They both come from similar experiences and cope with them differently.
> 
> Anyways this was for day three, greed/charity.

Fenris had several reasons to dislike and even hate Anders, but even he would not deny that the man was one of the most selfless people he had ever met. Anders donated his time and his meager belongings to the citizens of Lowtown and Darktown, most of whom owned less than even he did, and he was not quiet about the fact. It was common for him to ask Hawke if he had extra food or clothes -- ever since the move to Hightown, Hawke had been rolling in more coin than he seemed to know what to do with, gifting his companions any number of odd trinkets. 

There was still part of Fenris that thought that Anders was doing it all to hide something, to try to get something in return, but with the passage of years, he was starting to realize that this was just who Anders was. 

In comparison, Fenris never gave his coin to beggars. He rarely ventured to Lowtown in the first place except to go to the Hanged Man for a few games of cards and while there were a few more entrepreneuring beggars in Hightown, they were easy enough to avoid. But even when he did see them, even if he did just get paid by Hawke, Fenris was loathe to part with any of his hard earned coin.

“Do you care nothing for the suffering of others?” Anders accused him one day, after the group had walked right by a mother with three children. Fenris had watched, silently, while Hawke and Anders made arrangements for her to see Lirene and hopefully get some help. 

Fenris shrugged, checking the soles of his feet for any injuries or stray debris. It happened more often in the city than anywhere else and he didn’t want to not notice he was bleeding when he walked back to Hightown. 

Hawke began to walk and Fenris followed, trailed by a furious looking Anders. “She was an elf! Surely even you can spare a moment of sympathy for her,” he hissed. 

“And what will my sympathy do? Feed her? Bathe her children? Raise her from poverty?” Fenris questioned. He had seen the slums of Minrathous, he had lived on the edge between nothing and everything. Kirkwall’s downtrodden were pitiful, yes, but they were also free and they had choices that no slave ever would have. 

With that in mind, it was difficult to feel a great deal of sympathy for any but the lowliest of them. And, even more than that, Fenris couldn’t shake the feeling that if he wasn’t careful, he would end up coinless and in rags. If he didn’t horde everything he could -- weapons and coin and food -- then what would happen when Hawke inevitably pulled his support away? What would happen when Fenris, after years, had to run from Kirkwall? 

No, it was too risky to be giving everything he owned away like -- like Anders. 

That didn’t mean that the mage’s words were any less bothersome to Fenris. 

After the mission was done and Hawke let his companions all go back on their merry ways, Fenris went back to his mansion and ate until he was full. He ran himself a warm bath, thanking the dwarven alchemists who made the pipes, and washed all the sweat and dirt off his body. And then he went to sleep in a comfortable bed with three blankets piled on top because Kirkwall was cold and Fenris didn’t have to be cold anymore. 

No one was there to feed him scraps. No one forced him to wash off with a bucket of cold water. No one told him to curl up on the floor and sleep in his armor. No one could tell Fenris was to do.

And he loved it. 

“You have so much you could give!” Anders protested one day. He liked to argue with Fenris about things. If it weren’t mage rights, it was his treatment of others or his attitude towards life or the fact that he didn’t seem sad enough when walking by a stray dog or _something._ “You sit in your mansion with all the gold and the gifts Hawke gives you. Why do you not give some away? Help the needy?” 

Fenris did not need to justify his actions to Anders of all people so he remained silent. Anders, however, took it differently. 

“So you know that you’re being greedy and still you continue --” 

“Anders,” Isabela interrupted, giving him a look, “I’m sure that you have a good reason to argue with Fenris, but could you do it later? My ears are starting to be sore from listening to you.” For a moment, Anders looked like he was just going to complain more. But he just huffed and sped up a little, going to pester Hawke about something no doubt. 

Fenris nodded at Isabela in gratitude. He got the sense that she understood the impulsive need to hold onto everything, a sense of unease that any comfort was fleeting. Her support was appreciated, but still he did not wish to make a show of it. _The sooner this damn trip to the Bone Pit is over, the better,_ Fenris thought. 

Things came to a head when Fenris took his cut of the payment from Hawke at the end of the mission. Five gold wasn’t the most they had been paid, but it was still up there. This much gold would keep him fed and comfortable for a while, at the very least. 

Of course, Anders chose then to continue taunting Fenris. 

“Maybe now that you have so much gold, you can give it to people who actually need it! Oh wait, I forgot that you’re sitting around waiting for someone to come snatch you back up and you need to stockpile gold to -- to what again? I seem to have forgotten with how much you complain about mages --” 

“Shut your mouth,” Fenris snapped, turning and glaring at Anders. “You know nothing of what you speak.” 

“Well then, why don’t you explain it to me like a normal, rational adult instead of brooding?” Anders asked, returning the challenge. “You won’t, because you don’t have an excuse. You’re just a greedy --”

“Boys, you’re both pretty --” Hawke started to say. Fenris didn’t let him finish.

“Slaves do not own property,” Fenris said. “But I am no longer a slave. I can own things. I can have my own coin and my own clothes. My weapons are my own, my armor belongs to me. When I have food, I do not need to fear my master taking it from me. Do I feel sympathy for the poor? Yes. Despite what you may believe, _mage,_ I do have feelings and a heart. But whatever I do will not aid them and you are a fool to think your handouts are assisting them.” Fenris reached into his pocket and pulled out the coins. He tossed them at Anders’ feets. “There! Use them to help someone. See if I care. Just do not dare judge me for something you cannot understand.” 

Anger clouding his vision, Fenris stormed off to the mansion. 

He paced there, mood darkening with every minute. Part of him was tempted to run. To take what he needed and leave. He knew that he was being irrational but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want his emotions to control him which was really the only thing stopping him from bolting. The life here was good but it was only a matter of time before it was all gone, before he lost everything again… 

There was a knock on the door. Fenris froze in the foyer, hand going to his sword. The door opened slowly and Anders walked in.

“What do you want?” Fenris asked, eyes narrowing. Anders held his hands out, spreading his fingers to show he wasn’t holding anything dangerous. There was a staff strapped to his back but even Fenris knew that a mage as open and defiant as Anders would have to have one to walk around, or else the Templars or Carta or someone would get him. 

“I came to apologize.” 

“Apology not accepted. Leave.” 

Anders let out an exasperated sigh. “You know, in the Circle we don’t have belongings. We’re wards of the Circle. Everything we use is the Circle’s.”

“This is not the time to endear me to your cause, mage,” Fenris interrupted. 

“Will you be quiet for one minute, I’m trying to apologize!” Anders snapped. 

“You are doing a poor job of it.” Fenris pretended that he wasn’t a little smug about the way Anders glared, fingers twitching. 

“In the Circle, we don’t have belongings. We own nothing. It’s part of how it’s so hard to escape -- we literally have nothing but the clothes off our backs.” Anders was ignoring the glare Fenris sent his way. It was tempting to march forward and throw the mage out, headfirst, but Fenris resisted. He already knew that he was not going to leave Kirkwall and it would not do to injure the only healer. 

Without being interrupted, Anders continued. “I see others with nothing and I want to help them. It’s unjust for anyone to be without food or warm shelter or clothes and yes, you’re right. I cannot help them all and what I give may not be the solution to their problems, but it is better than letting their misery continue.” Anders sighed. Softer, this time. “I understand why you -- you horde things. Because I get the same urges. And I apologize for lashing out at you and taunting you.” 

“Good.” Fenris hesitated before glancing away, his initial anger subsiding. He knew how he seemed to others but also he didn’t feel like he had anything to apologize for. Anders was the one who had antagonized him and it really was no one’s business what he did with his coin. “You are not a bad man for helping others,” Fenris said slowly. 

Anders blinked and then broke into a grin. “Why, Fenris, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me!” 

“I will not make a habit out of it,” Fenris replied, both sarcastic and completely serious. Anders rolled his eyes and leaned back a little, crossing his arms. 

“You might still be a selfish bastard, but you aren’t an ass.” 

“Your approval means the world to me,” Fenris deadpanned. He kicked at the ground a little before disappearing into one of the side rooms. He ignored Anders called out, confused, and searched for the bag he was looking for. Once he found it, he grabbed it and headed back to the foyer, not giving himself enough time to think. He tossed it at the mage, who barely caught it out of surprise. “Give that to your people.” 

There was a moment as Anders opened the bag and almost dropped it. “Fenris, this --” 

“Do not make me regret this. Now leave.” Fenris raised one hand towards his sword, though he hardly needed it to be dangerous. “Do not make me repeat myself.” 

“Ok! Maker, even when you do something nice you’re rude about it.” Still, Anders gave Fenris a genuine smile before departing with a bag full of gold coins. 

Fenris wondered if this was supposed to make him feel better about himself or like he had done something good. Sebastian, no doubt, would have been praising him for following the Maker’s wishes or some nonsense like that. While Fenris considered Sebastian a good friend, sometimes the Chantry brother could be a bit… much. 

Instead of a sense of goodwill or satisfaction or anything, Fenris just felt annoyance that Anders had managed to get any sort of reaction out of him. He resolutely decided not to let the mage affect him further and went to his room to sleep before he did anything else reckless or stupid. 

The next time he was called out to help Hawke, Fenris brought a small coin purse and gave a few silvers to the beggars they ran into. Anders remained silent on the matter, which was good because Fenris might have punched him if he had spoken. 

When Anders smiled, though, Fenris found himself returning it. He could afford to be a bit polite, after all, even to an abomination. 

_Even to Anders,_ he corrected. _Not a bad man, just a foolish one._


End file.
